


Sarian Presents: Zuigerphobia

by InspiredParadox, namelesslunitic



Series: Sarian Presents [2]
Category: Family Guy
Genre: Character Study, Drama, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-02
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-24 07:38:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6146323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InspiredParadox/pseuds/InspiredParadox, https://archiveofourown.org/users/namelesslunitic/pseuds/namelesslunitic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zuigerphobia </p><p>1. Fear of vacuum cleaners, mostly found in small children and pets.</p><p>2. Not related to zoophilia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sarian Presents: Zuigerphobia

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: We do not own Family Guy or its characters.

It was a normal, beautiful, sunny Spring day in jolly ole Quahog, a day meant to be enjoyed outdoors, and that was just what most everyone on Spooner Street was doing. The laughter of children and parents echoed down the street. The smell of fresh food coming off the grill was wafting through the air as friends gathered in backyards to socialize in their respective yards and pools. It was a perfect day for fun and relaxation for the normal citizens.

...But, of course, normal doesn’t include the Griffins.

No, while almost every other family on Spooner Street was taking the opportunity to bond and enjoy the day, the Griffins were wasting the chance. Peter was in the living room watching television. Lois was out shopping. Chris and Meg were the only ones currently outside, and Brian and Stewie were both upstairs in the baby’s room. Brian was currently stationed at Stewie’s small table with his laptop, working on his latest bit of writing, while Stewie was just off to the side working on some new invention that he had yet to explain to his canine friend. The both of them were completely focused on their respective projects, neither talking to the other but both enjoying and finding solace in the comfortable silence they were sharing.

Lately, Brian had found it easier to write up in Stewie’s room. Stewie being around was a definite plus, but there was just something about the solitude that was available to him in this one particular room that allowed him to cut loose and really let the words flow. The dog finished typing the paragraph he was currently working on and gave it a quick once-over. He scratched his head, gazing at the screen pensively. After a while, he finally looked up from the screen and over at the toddler.

“Hey, Stewie?”

The boy turned away from the machine and lifted the welding mask he was currently wearing for protection.

“Hmmm?”

The canine nodded his head toward his laptop.

“Come take a look at this for me. I’m not sure it sounds right.”

The child smiled.

“Oh. Sure thing.”

He stood up and removed his leather apron before trotting over to stand beside Brian.

“Whatcha want me to look at, Bry?”

The dog pointed at the paragraph he just finished.

“Just look at the last sentence in this paragraph. I feel like it’s worded strangely.”

Stewie leaned in and read the whole paragraph before taking the particular sentence Brian wanted feedback on and looking it over a few times, once out loud.

“He had a lot on his mind, and he tried to quell those restless thoughts as he stood upon the rocky shore and gazed out over the equally restless, dark blue waters.”

The boy tilted his head in thought, remaining silent for a few moments before speaking again.

“I mean, it’s not bad. I see what you’re going for.”

There was a brief pause before he continued.

“I might have a few suggestions, though.”

He turned his head to look at the dog who had his eyebrow quirked.

“Yeah?”

Brian leaned forward as Stewie pointed at the screen.

“The word ‘blue’ is just a touch too bland for my tastes, maybe try something a little more descriptive, a particular type of blue, navy blue?”

The dog nodded as the child continued.

“And, there’s nothing wrong with ‘rocky’ right here, but I think the word ‘stony’ would make the sentence pop more. You know, alliteration and all that. Oh, and, also, to make it just a little less wordy, try taking out ‘equally restless’. It might, uhhhh…”

The boy coughed a little into his hand.

“Help the flow.”

Stewie stood up straight again, and Brian leaned back in his chair, arms folded.

“Hmmm. Ok. Let me try that.”

He made quick work of the edits, and then, read the revised sentence.

“He had a lot on his mind, and he tried to quell those thoughts as he stood upon the stony shore and gazed out over the dark, navy blue waters.”

The dog hummed in thought and then smiled.

“Yeah. That does sound a little better. Thanks, Stewie.”

He read over it once more in silence, and then, smirked.

“It just had to be ‘navy blue’, though, didn’t it?”

He barked out a chuckle.

“You thinking about the Navy or something?”

The child glared at the dog, feigning offense.

“Why? You jealous or something?”

At hearing that, the smile on the dog’s face instantly fell. He struggled to come up with something to shoot back at the child but just ended up sitting there with his mouth hanging open. Stewie folded his arms and smirked.

“That’s what I thought.”

Brian just continued to sit there, stupefied, as Stewie stared him down. Eventually, though, the child shifted his demeanor, bringing his hands behind his back as he leaned toward the canine, gazing at him innocently.

“Was there anything else you needed, Brian?”

The dog cleared his throat before shaking his head, turning back toward his laptop to focus on his writing. Stewie stayed there for a moment longer before giggling and practically skipping away. Brian pulled at his collar and reached up to scratch behind his neck before taking a deep breath, regaining his focus as he began typing again.

And, so the room fell into silence, all except for the clacking of keys and the occasional sounds coming from Stewie’s welding torch. The two continued to work for some time, each lost in their respective tasks, completely ignoring the outside world, but then, they each heard a shout coming from downstairs that abruptly jolted them out of their trance-like states.

“Everyone in the living room!”

It was the commanding tone of Lois.

Brian and Stewie both jumped slightly before groaning in mild annoyance. Brian sat there a moment longer, rubbing at his temple before shutting his laptop and standing up from his chair. Meanwhile, Stewie began removing his safety gear, muttering threats to his mother under his breath. They both shuffled out of the room and slowly made their way downstairs where the rest of the family sans Lois was sitting on the couch. The woman was holding a plastic shopping bag. She turned toward them and motioned for them to have a seat. Brian sat in the empty chair at the side, and Stewie soon followed him, climbing up into his lap. Once Lois was satisfied that she had the whole family’s attention, she began speaking.

“Alright, everyone, I just got back from the store and bought us plenty of cleaning supplies. It’s time for a little spring cleaning. Today, we’re going to clean up this house, spic and span.”

Everyone groaned, and Lois just rolled her eyes in response. Meg was the first to speak up.

“But Mom, I was about to take the car out to meet up with some of my friends!”

Chris shot her a glare and began shouting.

“I told you that Dad already told me he was going to let me use it to practice driving!”

Meg growled and threw her hands up in the air.

“He told me I could use it first!”

Seeing where this was going, Lois quickly interjected.

“You two can settle this later! For now, I need you upstairs cleaning those filthy rooms of yours!”

Meg huffed before shooting to her feet and stomping upstairs. Chris soon followed. Lois sighed before turning towards her husband.

“Peter, I need you to clean the garage. It’s an absolute wreck, right now. You have so much junk you need to get rid of.”

Peter responded with a whine.

“Awwww. But, Lois, I can’t get rid of that stuff! It’s my stuff! Plus, I’m busy. I was, uh, about to go hang out with the guys at The Clam.”

Lois folded her arms and stared her husband down.

“You never use any of that stuff. It’s junk. Clean the garage, then you can go hang out with your friends.”

Peter began kicking his legs violently back and forth.

“But I don’t wannnnnnnaaaaa!”

The woman pointed towards the door and shouted through gritted teeth.

“NOW!

Peter flinched back from the angry outburst. After whining for a moment longer, he stood up and walked out of the room, hands in his pockets and head down as he continued to complain under his breath. Lois just shook her head before turning towards Brian.

“Brian, I’m putting you on window duty. I just bought some cleaner. It’s in the bag in the kitchen. Just wash every window in the house, and let me know when you’re done.”

Next she turned to Stewie, and a smile instantly came to her face as she reached into the bag she was carrying and pulled out a feather duster.

“As for you, my little man. Mommy just bought a new duster, and she figured you could use it around the house.”

She walked over towards the chair and leaned down, showing Stewie how to dust by using the item on the armrest of the chair.

“Can you do this? You wanna help Mommy?”

She held the duster out for her son, who reluctantly took it, obviously very annoyed at the way Lois was speaking to him.

“Fine. But, I’m only doing it because this house really is rather filthy!”

He folded his arms and looked away from the woman. Of course, Lois didn’t recognize her son’s displeasure as she chuckled at the baby before wandering off to begin whatever task she had assigned for herself. The boy continued to sit there with an angry scowl on his face until Brian finally cleared his throat.

“You, uh, gonna let me up, kid?”

The child turned to meet the dog’s gaze and smirked.

“I don’t know. I might want to stay here awhile longer. You’ve got a pretty comfy lap.”

Brian just rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore the comment.

“Stewie…”

The infant remained seated a moment longer, not responding, before finally bursting out into a giggle. He hopped down and waved the duster around.

“Well, I suppose we should get to work, then. This house isn’t going to clean itself.”

And with that, Stewie was rushing up the stairs. Brian just shook his head, a small smile forming on his face in amusement. Though, he would never let Stewie see that. After his bout of mirth, the canine jumped off the chair and went to retrieve his cleaning supplies. He spotted the bag that Lois had told him about, sitting on the table. Inside was a bottle of Windex. After grabbing some paper towels he began making his way into the living room. Upon entering, he stopped dead in his tracks. His heart began racing at the sight in front of him.

Lois was plugging in the vacuum cleaner.

The dog gulped, and his breathing started to come in short, rough bursts.

He took a second to compose himself. He knew how ridiculous this fear was. Why did he allow it to have such a hold on him?

_Stop it. Just stop it. It’s a fucking vacuum cleaner. It’s not going to do anything._

For a second, he could feel himself calming down, but as soon Lois turned the machine on, his primal terror kicked in full force. It took everything in him to suppress his urge to bark. He growled under his breath, gritting his teeth before finally turning to run as fast as he could up the stairs away from that monster. The scared canine made a beeline for Stewie’s room, rushing in and shutting the door behind him. His chest was heaving as he rested his back against the door, struggling to catch his breath. He closed his eyes and knocked the back of his head against the door in frustration.

_This is so stupid…_

“Brian?”

The dog’s eyes shot open. He looked off to the side to see Stewie standing by his open closet looking concerned. Brian sighed under his breath.

_Shit…_

The dog stood up straight and then remained there, feeling awkward. The child began walking towards him, and in response, he took a step back. Stewie just quirked his eyebrow at him.

“Is something wrong?”

It took Brian a second to find the words.

“Wrong?”

He chuckled in a way that he hoped came across as nonchalant.

“No. Nothing is wrong. I just…”

He had to stop and think.

“I just came in here to get started, you know, washing the windows, but it would probably make more sense to start at the end of the hall, right? So, I should probably go to Peter and Lois’s room first and then just make my way down.”

He placed his paw on the knob of the door.

“Yeah. Yeah, that makes more sense. Sorry for bugging you. Catch you later, kid.”

And, with that, he was out the door in a flash, proceeding quickly to the other bedroom just in case Stewie decided to follow after him. Once he was sure that wasn’t the case, he shut the door and began getting to work.

Being so short, washing windows wasn’t exactly an ideal task for him, but he was able to make do, finding things to stand on here and there, and it wasn’t like the windows needed to be perfect. A quick wipedown was all they really needed, just squirt the pane, wipe it, and move on. As he worked, though, he couldn’t help but feel tense. He could still hear the vacuum cleaner. It was nowhere near as loud upstairs as it had been downstairs, but there was still that faint, familiar hum ringing in his ears, just enough to drive him a little insane. He shook his head, ashamed. It was absolutely embarrassing to be so unnerved by something so harmless. The fact that he couldn’t hide it just made it all the worse. He knew that his fear was no secret.

Everyone in the family knew about it. Some had exploited it… But, he still didn’t want to talk about it. Should he not be allowed to keep whatever dignity he still had? So, even if Stewie knew the reason he was freaking out, he wasn’t about to curl up into a whimpering ball and admit he was afraid. He was better than that. No matter how worried the child might have looked, that was one conversation he refused to have with the boy.

These were the thoughts that rushed through his head as he worked and did his best to ignore that vile contraption. Before long, he’d finished with Peter and Lois’s bedroom windows. After giving them a last onceover to make sure they were satisfactory, he gathered up his supplies and proceeded back to the baby’s room. Before entering, he peeked his head in the door.

“Stewie.”

Upon receiving no answer, he breathed a sigh of relief before walking all the way in and shutting the door. He walked over to the window and put his stuff down before grabbing the plastic table and dragging it under the window. He then placed one of the chairs on top of the table and checked to make sure it was steady before grabbing his supplies and climbing up to clean the top of Stewie’s window.

Once again, simply being in this room was enough to calm him significantly. For a moment, he was actually able to completely ignore the vacuum downstairs, but as he was finishing up the window, his ears picked up the sound of the machine getting louder...and closer.

Lois was obviously making her way up the stairs. She might have even been halfway up, at this point. The dog went tense. He was frozen in terror due to the encroaching noise. By the time he could tell the vacuum cleaner had finished its ascent, his whole body was shaking. Just when he was about to lose it, though, the noise stopped. Lois had switched off the vacuum.

The dog took a moment to compose himself before moving to step down from the chair, but just as he moved his foot, he heard the vacuum cleaner flip on again, right outside in the upstairs hallway. The canine jumped, a yelp emitting from his throat as he proceeded to fall back off the chair. His back hit the table hard, knocking the wind out of him as he rolled off onto the floor and dropped his supplies to the ground. The poor dog groaned in pain, reaching back to rub his now-sore back, all the while beginning to shake again from the sound that was now right outside the door. He closed his eyes and whimpered. There was no one here to see him, and he couldn’t contain his terror any longer. There had been very few times he had felt so miserable. Most of the time, when Lois was getting out the vacuum, he was able to notice and get the hell out of there before she started cleaning. This time, he had been roped into chores, as well, so he couldn’t exactly leave. He had to endure this. He had to deal with it...but that was easier said than done. He knew there was nothing to be afraid of, but this fear was innate. What could he really do about that?

_Why do I let these instincts control me?_

He stayed there on the floor for a good while, unable to move. Eventually, though, he could hear the machine down on the other end of the hallway. It was quieter now. The dog opened his eyes and slowly stood to his feet. He was able to keep himself under control...for now. He knew that as soon as the vacuum cleaner began getting closer again, he’d revert back to his previous, pathetic state.

_Screw it. I need to get the fuck out of here._

The dog took a couple of deep breaths, mustering up his courage before finally bolting out the door and down the stairs. He reached the front door and grabbed the knob, but just as he was about to exit the house, a voice called out to him, stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Where do you think you’re going?!”

The dog considered ignoring the voice he knew to be Stewie’s, but after thinking it through, he was able to come to his senses and turn around to address the boy. He opened his mouth to speak, but as soon as his eyes locked onto the boy, he froze.

The boy was standing there, duster in one hand while the other rested on his hip, glaring at him, but it wasn’t the glare that caught the canine off guard. Oh, no. At some point since their last encounter, Stewie had changed into what Brian could only describe as a French maid uniform. Upon seeing the child sporting such attire, he gulped involuntarily, forgetting the vacuum upstairs for a brief moment.

_Seriously... What the fuck, Stewie?!_

The child began tapping his foot, obviously growing impatient after not hearing a response from the dog.

“Well? You going to say something? Cat got your tongue? I don’t know what you’re up to, but it looks to me like you’re trying to skip out on your chores. And I won’t tolerate such a thing. ...Unless you were to take me with you, of course. That I would definitely tolerate.”

Brian continued to stand there, still trying to find words he deemed suitable.

After a few more seconds, the infant sighed and began waving his hand in front of the dog.

“Hello?! Anybody in there?!”

Finally, the dog snapped out of his paralysis. He shook his head and pointed at the child.

“What’s with the getup?”

The boy looked down at his ensemble and then back up at the canine with the slightest of smirks.

“What? I’m cleaning? Is it not appropriate?”

Stewie did a little twirl to show off the whole outfit, and Brian just tilted his head at the odd little genius.

“Uh, huh. Yeah, totally appropriate…”

The dog just shook his head again before smirking back at Stewie.

“Whatever excuse makes you feel better. We both just know you saw an opportunity to wear a dress and jumped on it.”

The boy just scoffed at the canine and crossed his arms over his chest.

“And what if I did? It’s still appropriate attire for the task at hand. I’m not the one being weird here, Brian. I don’t need to feel better about anything. If this kind of thing still surprises you, then that’s your problem, not mine.”

The child paused for a second, reaching up to tap his chin as he pondered something. A wicked smile suddenly formed on his face as he locked eyes with the dog.

“Or maybe it’s not the fact I’m wearing this that has you so surprised. Maybe what you’re REALLY surprised about is just how WELL I wear this little uniform.”

The dog’s eyes went wide at the accusation, and once again (it felt like it was becoming the pattern of the day), he was at a loss for words. He reached up to scratch behind his neck as he tried to come up with a clever retort. At seeing this, the boy just giggled sinisterly.

“Hmmm? Am I right about that? I’m right, aren’t I?”

He took a step toward Brian, who responded by taking a step back. This was beginning to frustrate the canine. He glared down at the boy and was about to shoot a response back. Unfortunately, it was at that moment that Lois decided to exit whatever room she had been in upstairs. The vacuum was back out in the hall, as loud as ever, and it caused the canine to falter. Stewie just continued staring up at him, but the smile that was on his face fell slightly. It was obvious he knew something wasn’t right with the dog. Funny enough, though, this bugged the canine even more, so in an attempt to keep the banter going and to seem normal, he yelled out the first words that came to his mind.

“Y-Yeah, right. You w-wish that was the case. B-But it’s not. I’m not a little fag like you!”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Brian regretted saying them. The boy flinched away from him, smile now completely falling away into a confused frown.

“W-What?”

Brian hit himself on the head, berating himself for saying such a thing to his little buddy when he knew the kid had just been teasing him. He had gone waaaaaay too far. The vacuum upstairs was still whirring away, and he could feel his legs beginning to shake now as he waved his paws out toward the boy, desperately trying to right the wrong he’d just committed.

“No. No. No. I...I didn’t mean it like that. I was just trying to say that…”

The vacuum was really getting to him now. His breathing was becoming labored, and he could feel the terror slowly suffocating him. Stewie was still looking at him. The boy didn’t really look hurt or mad. No, if anything, he was worried now. The boy stepped forward again, reaching out toward the dog.

“Brian? Are you ok?”

The canine was breathing heavily, trying so hard to finish his sentence, but it was a futile effort. In the next instant, he was on the floor. Stewie shot forward at witnessing his friend collapse.

“Brian?!”

He ran to the dog’s side, staring down at him, eyes wide with fear, not knowing what was causing the canine to have what almost seemed to him like a panic attack.

“Brian?! Brian?! What’s wrong?! Talk to me! Please!”

The canine was shaking and lying on his side. The child sat down beside him, still trying to get a response.

“Brian! What’s going on?! Snap out of it! You’re scaring me!”

Brian’s eyes were darting back and forth rapidly before finally settling on the stairs, gaze slightly tilted upwards. Stewie turned to look at whatever his friend had noticed. For a second, he was just confused, but after taking another moment to focus, it soon became clear what was going on here. That faint sound in the background, just barely noticeable, but it was definitely there. It was the vacuum, and Stewie knew that Brian had a phobia of that device, as many of his canine brethren did. He’d never seen the dog react this way before, though. He turned back to look at the poor canine still shaking there on the ground. His eyes were now shut tightly, and Stewie just sat there and watched sadly as the fur-covered body folded in on itself, practically curling into a ball. The boy sighed and leaned over to whisper into his companion’s ear.

“Shhhhh. Hey. Hey, listen, it’s ok. I’m right here. It can’t hurt you. I won’t let it.”

The boy reached out and began petting the dog’s side, hoping to sooth him. For a moment, it seemed like the shaking was finally subsiding, but then, the child’s heart sank at the sound of his favorite person whimpering, high-pitched whines that only served to further convey just how gripped with fear his friend truly was. Stewie sighed sadly and moved around so that he was behind Brian. For a moment longer, he continued petting the dog. His hand reached over to scratch at a certain spot behind the Brian’s ear. The gesture earned him a subtle leg twitch, but the canine’s whining persisted, body vibrating ever so slightly still.

Stewie could feel a lump forming in his throat. He absolutely hated seeing Brian in such a state. He whispered once more in the ear he was now caressing.

“You’re going to be fine. It’s alright. I’m right here. Stewie’s here, Brian.”

The child stopped petting his dog for just a second. He went to lay down on his side, as well, before wrapping an arm around the frightened canine’s fur-covered body, getting a tight hold on him, desperate to calm his friend. The boy hugged him close, and began running his fingers through the white fur, soft and delicate strokes to soothe that shaking form. Stewie tilted his head toward the dog and began humming a simple, repetitive tune. He paused briefly to speak again.

“Do you hear me? Do you hear me, Brian? Focus on that. Focus on me, on the humming.”

He gave the dog an affectionate squeeze before continuing.

“Hmm. Hmmm. Hmm. Hmm. Hmmm. Hmm. Hmm. Hmmm. Hmmmmmm.”

Stewie shut his eyes and just laid there, repeating that same tune over and over, holding the dog protectively against his body. He wasn’t sure how long the two of them stayed like that, but eventually, he could feel the tension in Brian’s muscles beginning to ease. The shaking was beginning to stop, too, and he wasn’t even sure when the whimpers had died down, but he sure wasn’t hearing them now. The body in his arms grew still, but the child continued humming as he opened his eyes. He felt the rise and fall of Brian’s chest. The breathing was now normal. Stewie squeezed the canine one more time before ceasing his humming.

“Brian?”

There was no verbal response, but Stewie did feel the dog’s paw come to rest over his hand, slightly closing around it. At this, the child finally smiled. He nuzzled his cheek against the dog’s side and sighed in relief.

“You scared me.”

Still, his friend said nothing, just continued to hold his hand, which was fine by Stewie. He was willing to stay there for as long as Brian needed him. The vacuum upstairs was still audible to him, so he knew that Brian could definitely hear it still. He seemed fairly calm, though. Maybe he was just ignoring it. It was a possibility, but Stewie didn’t want to press the issue. After a few minutes of lying there, though, the boy couldn’t help but speak again.

“Are you going to be ok, Bry?”

He heard the dog sigh as he gave his hand a squeeze.

“Yeah. I’ll… I’ll be fine, Stewie.”

Brian’s voice was low and raspy, like his throat was dry. Stewie considered going to get the dog some water, but decided it could wait. It was probably for the best that he didn’t leave the canine’s side, after all.

“Ok. I was just making sure. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

He felt the dog shiver ever so slightly against him, causing his heart to race just a little bit. He didn’t have time to focus on the action too much, though, since the canine was quick to reply.

“Thank you.”

The child just couldn’t resist giving in to the huge smile that spread across his face at hearing that. His cheeks felt a little hot. Was he blushing? A barely audible giggle emitted from his throat.

“Anytime.”

As he continued to lie there beside the dog, one of his legs began to sway gently back and forth, sometimes just barely rubbing against Brian’s leg. Though it was upsetting to him to have seen Brian in such a state earlier, he couldn’t lie to himself. He was grateful to have this opportunity to hold the canine, to be so close. He was about to close his eyes again, but stopped when he heard the vacuum cleaner finally being shut off.

Brian noticed this, too, and in the next instant, he was pulling his paw from Stewie’s hand and sitting up. The boy kept a hold on him, though, something that made the dog feel just a tad uncomfortable, but he didn’t focus on that. He was still recovering from his episode. He allowed the child to hold him for a minute longer before finally standing to his feet and making his way towards the kitchen. He could hear Stewie following behind him, and he just shook his head. A part of him was embarrassed by what had just happened, but another part of him was touched and grateful for that amazing kid.

Once he crossed the threshold into the kitchen, he stopped and looked back at his little buddy, who almost walked smack into the dog thanks to Brian’s sudden halting.

“All done in the living room?” he asked the child, pointing to Stewie’s feather duster and smiling slightly. He was putting on a front, pretending things had fully gone back to normal, but was proud when he sounded casual and like himself.

Stewie hesitated a moment, like he was a trifle unsure whether or not he should be following Brian, but then just ended up shrugging.

“Eh, why not? Only so much you can do in this hellhole. I haven’t been to the kitchen yet, so let me try my meager luck in there.”

Brian chuckled, and passed further into the kitchen. When his eyes happened to spot a grocery store bag that was on top of the table, though, he stopped in his tracks again and internally groaned. Out of his peripheral vision, he watched as Stewie walked around him and headed over to the fridge, making the rather odd choice to begin dusting there. The canine sighed and wrung his paws together. He was still feeling pretty shaky. He desperately wanted just to get to work, become distracted, and appear normal until he started to feel normal, but could he do that? He’d just realized he’d left his basket of cleaning supplies upstairs.

With the catastrophe that he currently felt his life to be, Brian figured his luck would have it that the bag he was looking at, the one Lois had just brought home, was now empty. She’d probably already passed out all the cleaning supplies, and Brian would either have to skip out on his chore, and bear the consequences of further embarrassing himself in front of Stewie and catching hell from the others, or… No. There was no or. No way in hell was he going back upstairs for those supplies. That just couldn’t happen.

Brian shot another look over at Stewie. Immediately his eyes narrowed at the tyke, who was still ineffectually swirling the duster around on the fridge and seemed to be shaking his ass a little as he did so. What on earth was that kid’s deal? Brian was torn between laughing, scoffing, and just...staring. Really, Stewie had been right. That maid’s outfit was entirely suitable. In fact, it seemed to suit the boy a little _too_ well...

 _Okay, Brian, but we were taking a break from madness, remember?_ his brain reminded him. _Hopefully if there’s nothing left in that bag, there’s some Windex under the sink or something. You need a simple, mundane task to focus on so you’re not thinking about the monster upstairs...or the one in the room with you._

The dog made his way over to the table and boosted himself up on a chair. He crossed his fingers to hit paydirt when he checked in the bag. For once, luck was with him. It seemed Lois had bought extra supplies.

He exhaled in relief, collected what he needed, and pushed a chair over to the sink, so as to get at the window above it. He then grabbed the Windex, climbed up on the chair, and placed it on the counter. Because he had to hang onto the chair to get up onto it, he had to bring his items up one at a time. He was about to climb back down for the towels, but suddenly Stewie was standing there, handing them to him.

“Oh,” said Brian. “Thanks.”

“Us shorties have got to stick together,” said the baby with a little shrug. He threw the canine a wink as Brian took the towels from him. “I’m your shorty on call if you need something, buddy.” And then he did finger pistols in the air as Brian laughed.

The dog turned around to see to his work, but before he could spray the window, he heard Stewie’s voice asking him, “Say, while you’re up there, I don’t suppose you’d mind getting me a cup of water?”

Brian nodded and obliged, and gave the child his cup of water. He then commenced cleaning the window. He tore a portion of paper towel off the roll, squirted the glass with the Windex, and began to wipe. His movements were slow and methodical, unlike what his process upstairs had been. Since he was now using the activity as a means to calm down and re-center himself after his breakdown in the living room, he found himself trying to drag it out. Washing windows didn’t take much exertion, so it wasn’t not like he could let loose any pent-up frustrations by using a lot of energy. That was okay, though, since he didn’t have much to spend. Whatever kept happening to him, as a result of his damn fear, these panic attacks or whatever they were...they had left him almost exhausted. He tried to soothe his still-raw nerves by attempting to become hypnotized by the gradual process of his paw clutching the paper towel segment, eeking rhythmically up-and-down the pane.

“My, aren’t you the anal one?”

Stewie’s voice jolted Brian out of his reverie. He turned and looked down, surprised to find the boy standing there, beside his chair, once again. Or had he never moved away from it in the first place?

The dog was slow to respond, barely managing a distracted, “What?” before Stewie went on:

“I never would have thought it.” The child giggled. He was still holding the duster, and he tapped Brian on the leg with it.

Anal? What was Stewie getting at? Abruptly, Brian remembered slinging quite the harsh and uncalled for insult at him back in the living room. He didn’t think that was the point Stewie was driving at now, but the recollection caused a little twinge of regret in his gut.

“I’m sure that window’s probably clean enough by now, Brian,” the boy said, while the dog just gawked. Stewie’s expression was characteristically wry, but the mockery in it seemed gentler than usual, and then the kid offered him a genuinely friendly smile.

“Oh,” said Brian, coming back to himself. “Oh,” he said again, and chuckled. He glanced down at the piece of paper towel, which was practically falling apart in his hand. He let out another bark of laughter. “Yeah, you know what, it probably is…”

“You look like you could use a drink of water,” suggested Stewie, and it was then that the dog observed that the baby’s other hand still held the cup of water he’d handed down a while ago. It didn’t look like Stewie’d drunk out of it at all. As if he could read the canine’s mind, the boy added, “I haven’t taken a drink from it yet. So don’t worry. I know the two of us drinking from the same cup would practically be like us kissing.” He smirked.

Brian scoffed, already climbing down from the chair. He wasn’t going to waste any time in abandoning that window, since Stewie had already called him on his weird behavior. He took the proffered cup as his two feet touched the floor, and Stewie remarked,

“Of course, you’ve also been known to drink out of the toilet bowl, so what does _that_ imply you’ve done with each and every one of us…?”

Brian rolled his eyes as he gulped some water. Then, after swallowing, he wiped his mouth on the back of his paw and muttered, “Weren’t you supposed to be working in here, too, not harassing me?” as he walked over to the table.

That wasn’t quite fair, considering the kindness that Stewie had shown him only a little while ago during his total terrified meltdown in the front room, but since when were they completely fair to each other? Anyway, while the kid’s actions had increased Brian’s affection for him for the day, it had also made him anxious to preserve his own image. He didn’t like being embarrassed of himself. Therefore, though Stewie’s actions had causedfond feelings and gratitude to swell up in Brian, they had caused a feeling of annoyance to rear its head, too. Just why did it seem destined that Stewie would always see him at his lowest?

He took a seat at the table and brooded there while clutching his water. He could feel the child’s eyes on him, and knew the tyke had to be wondering why he’d seemingly just given up on washing the windows.

“I’m just taking a break,” he explained to his friend, though the comment was directed at the water glass.

“Me, too,” responded the boy, and Brian was surprised when his voice seemed to come from right beside him. Turning his head, the canine gave a little jump when it turned out that Stewie _was_ right next to him, apparently having scrambled up into his highchair without making a sound or drawing attention, just like a tiny little ninja.

“Aaah!” cried Brian, somewhat exaggeratedly. “Don’t sneak up on a person like that!”

The child merely scoffed, and fastidiously straightened the little maid’s cap on top of his head.

“Honestly, I agreed to this because I’m ashamed of the sty I live in, but that vile woman really ought to feel guilty that she’s got us doing her dirty work like this. I’m sure there are some child labor laws being violated here, if I just placed a call to the right people…” He trailed off, though, and Brian suddenly sat up, totally alert because of the serious look on the baby’s face.

“What?” he asked concernedly. “What is it?”

“You,” said Stewie candidly, and it was plain to see then that the boy was indeed staring at him rather fixedly. “Your...your paw is shaking, Brian.” His voice was soft and compassionate.

It was only then that Brian noticed that he did have a tremor in his paw. He looked at where it was resting on the table and in an effort to stop the involuntary shaking, he went and covered it with his other paw. He bit his lip and turned away nervously, willing, _demanding_ the paw stop trembling.

The effect was that _both_ of his paws then started shaking.

He felt the gentle touch of Stewie’s hand, and glanced down, finding his companion’s hand placed over his two folded paws. He sighed and shook his head in exasperation. Here he was, requiring the kid’s help again. He gently slid his folded paws out from under the child’s tiny hand.

_Such small hands, to put baggage into…_

Brian supposed he would always think that way. No matter how much insane crap he’d watch Stewie deal with ably, no matter how massive and potentially world-destroying and world-creating the event at hand had been, there would always be a part of him that wanted to shield the boy from certain things, to be strong for him. Maybe, like the zuigerphobia, it was another involuntary part of being a dog. Canines were protective of their homes and the people in them, and often particularly of small children, supposedly the most vulnerable members of the family.

All things considered, Stewie was far from the most vulnerable person in the house, but that didn’t mean Brian was itching to fill that job.

“I’m sorry for what I said in the living room,” the dog suddenly blurted out. He wasn’t really sure why. He’d had a vague notion before of wanting to apologize, but as to why it came spilling out of him now, well, he could only guess that he was trying to do _something_ admirable. Quaking like a coward over an irrational fear most definitely wasn’t, but doing the right thing and apologizing might be considered so.

However, Stewie merely looked at him askance. “The living room…” he mused, clearly trying to determine what Brian was referring to. A look of concern once again overspread his face. “Brian, you shouldn’t have to apologize for anything you said while...while you were…” It was evident he wanted to find a delicate way of saying ‘freaking out’ or ‘breaking down’, even though Brian knew Stewie, and later on, after the raw feelings had passed, the kid might remark on today’s incident and not give a damn about giving offense.

“It wasn’t during that!” Brian barked, the words coming out somewhat more forcefully than he had intended, and he took a breath again to compose himself. He started over,more softly, saying, “It was before that.” This wasn’t wholly true, because the whole reason he’d lashed out at Stewie was due to being in the grips of stress, but there was no need to get into all that. He continued abashedly, “When I called you a-”

“Oh!” Stewie exclaimed, suddenly understanding. “Oh! That’s- that’s okay, Brian.” His voice had gone slightly flat as he was speaking, however, and he glanced down at his highchair tray.“I mean...I don’t want you to think I have these fragile, Faberge egg feelings. I’m not Taylor Swift; I’m not going to go write some pathetic song about you because you weren’t nice to me...but that really wasn’t very cool, Bry.” Eyes tinged with sadness looked up at the dog, and Brian felt a sharp stab of guilt.

He stared back at the child solemnly, and gave a nod to show that he fully agreed with that statement. “I know,” he said regretfully, and he was about to offer a second ‘I’m sorry’, but Stewie spoke again first, not unkindly but sort of briskly, like he just wanted to say what he had to say, without questions or interruptions.

“I mean, we all are who we are, right? I know who I am. I know that I inhabit some qualities that most other guys don’t. But I didn’t deserve that comment. We’re all just doing the best we can. We’re all constantly learning to accept things about ourselves. And like I said, I accept your apology, Brian, it’s fine. That remark said more about you than it did about me… But I know who you are, too. You’re a good dog.” The boy finally, after his solemn speech, smiled at Brian again. It was quite an affectionate smile. “I know you’re not homophobic.”

“No- I’m zuigerphobic,” interjected the dog in a wry tone-- and accidentally. He really hadn’t intended to bring that to the forefront of their minds again, or to intrude on Stewie’s moment. Now he’d just gone and explicitly named his fear to another person, which felt like a far bigger moment than any of the few times he’d had occasion to stand in an AA meeting and say, “Hello, my name is Brian, and I’m an alcoholic.”

“Yes,” said Stewie, with a small frown of concern. “That you certainly are, aren’t you?”

Brian was surprised, though he really shouldn’t have been.

“You- you actually know what that means?”

Stewie shrugged. “Shouldn’t I? I mean, for goodness sake, I really do have a vast vocabulary, Brian, weren’t you aware?” He batted a hand over his shoulder, flipping back the long hair which he did not possess. He gave a haughty little smile, pleased with himself. “It is somewhat of an odd, random new word to learn, though. I wonder where I happened across it. Was it a word-a-day calendar?” He asked himself aloud musingly. “Yes, I think that must be it…” He trailed off, and then abruptly grew more serious again. “Brian...it really bothers you, being afraid of the vacuum, doesn’t it?”

 _What the hell do you think, genius?_ thought Brian. The canine bit back this more hostile response, but still let out a mirthless laugh and muttered in a remote kind of tone, “Of course it bothers me.”

Stewie was surveying him intently, "Why is that?" The child's brow knitted slightly, but his tone seemed more like he was puzzling it over himself rather than directing a question at Brian. "You're a dog... It’s only natural you’d be zuigerphobic, isn't it" He then looked Brian full in the face, and the tyke's whole expression seemed to droop. "Wow, way to make me feel like I kicked a puppy."

"Way to act like you're above it," Brian fired back. "And I'm no puppy, I'm a grown-ass dog." He took a somewhat unsteady drink of his water. 'Getting on in the years...' He sat the glass back down and grimaced. "Just because it's something that happens with dogs doesn't mean it should happen with me. I don't have to be proud of it."

Brian waited for Stewie to make some kind of snide remark about whether Brian was proud of all his other canine habits, but it didn't come, and so Brian rushed out with,

"I'm a coward, Stewie." And then, for some reason he didn't understand, and without having made a prior conscious decision to do it, he leaned over his water glass, and began to drink from it by lapping up the water; even though with the liquid at its current level, he had to extend his tongue quite a fair bit to accomplish this.

He felt Stewie's hand on the top of his head, and heard the baby breathe a deep sigh. Fingers ruffled fur as they gave him a little scalp massage.

"I try," panted out Brian, winded from stress, after he came up for air, "to live my life like an average citizen of this country. I do feel like I have...something to offer society. But it turns out I'm NOT an average citizen: I'm a below average citizen. Compared to humans, I am more cowardly than most, not bold enough to do anything to significantly improve my life. You would think I could at least be braver than most dogs, if I can't be brave for a person. But, no-- I have all their weaknesses! I'm cursed to think and reason more than them, but I can't think or reason my way out of this...a stupid fear of the vacuum cleaner!"

"Why does it always seem like the strongest emotions defy reason?" Stewie quietly wondered out loud, a small, tight smile on his face as he cocked his head and looked at the family dog. "Brian...you don't have to let this define you."

Brian picked up his glass again. It wasn't nearly as good as having a glass of whiskey in his hand, but even simply having something to hold onto and sip from seemed to be helping with his nervous energy a bit. It was like having a tick...just not the awful, parasitic type.

He tilted the glass more this time to aid his efforts at trying to down the water by lapping at it, but stopped at hearing Stewie's next words.

"Wow. Honestly, Bry, this whole demonstration of your tongue skills is starting to seem quite crude and indecent." The boy paused. "And also, I don't know what you want me to say about your cowardice. I'm not exactly going to disagree with you that your lack of courage is a problem."

Brian placed the cup back down on the table and narrowed his eyes at the baby at his side. The kid was examining his fingernails, picking some probably imaginary dirt out from underneath them. His countenance was a model of the casually jaded and with him in that absurd outfit, it made Brian momentarily picture his companion as an aging, world-weary hotel maid, taking a cigarette break and counting the change she'd managed to take unnoticed from the various rooms she'd cleaned.

Despite that flight of fancy, though, Brian was genuinely pissed off.

"Oh, go to hell, Stewie," he muttered, turning his back on the troublesome toddler as literally as he felt Stewie had figuratively turned his back on him.

"Brian," said the child entreatingly, "you didn't let me finish. I wasn't making fun of your zuigerphobia. I care about you, Bry, so obviously I care that this fear is so intense and bothers you so severely."

Brian turned slowly back around to face the kid.

Stewie wore a sympathetic smile. "Thing is, you began to do some self-analysis, which prompts me to chime in with my own observations in the spirit of helping you out." He spoke in a calm and reasoned voice, sounding as he so often (though not always) did, wise way, way far beyond his years. Er, year.

"You're one of the greatest people I know!" Stewie raved, clasping hands to heart and smiling fondly. Also, emphasizing "people". "With or without your canine instinct to be afraid of the vacuum. But I believe it's not JUST a canine fear. Oh, no, Brian. You needn't worry about this being a typical doglike fear. As usual, you've surpassed the brethren of your species and turned this into a more sophisticated problem." Now he smiled semi-sarcastically. "Congratulations."

"What do you mean?" Brian asked, not following.

"Well, while this fear may or may not be beneath you," Stewie began, "it is very evidently not representative of what an ordinary dog experiences. In the first place, do they have all this angst over the simple fact that they have the fear? No, of course not!"

Brian pondered this, stroking his chin as he considered Stewie's point. "Yeah..." he said slowly. "I guess so, Stewie..." His voice trailed off, and he exhaled, long and low, and looked the child in the eye. He still had a sunken feeling in his gut, a crater forged by heavy sadness and shame. Funny how he always carried with him some amount of sadness and shame, but sometimes it was much easier to ignore. Sometimes he could pretend his crushed guts were real ones, real confidence, but at the very least, the absence of an ominously humming and whirring vacuum was required to make that happen.

He heard how despondent he still sounded when he told Stewie, "Thanks for trying to cheer me up, kid, but it's gonna take a little more than, 'at least you feel bad about your fear'."

Maybe Stewie couldn't help him this time. Had he really expected him to be able to? What had he been thinking? Stewie couldn't change innate canine behavior, and nor could he make Brian feel less pathetic for indulging in that behavior, probably.

"Okay, pace yourself, boy, you're being really bad about letting me finish," said Stewie, his voice a tender sort of croon, and he touched Brian's paw again. The dog went a little tense.

“You not only feel bad; you’re downright neurotic,” the boy went on. “And sure...some of your zuigerphobia is probably caused by whatever causes it in other dogs. However, I would like to posit that perhaps a part of the problem is this fear has been compounded by your other fears.”

Brian felt the stirring of a slightly intrigued feeling inside of him, and he regarded his infant companion thoughtfully. “Go on.”

“You think no one understands you, Brian, but I do,” said Stewie, looking earnestly into Brian’s eyes until the canine got a funny feeling in his stomach and had to look away. “I mean...I understand that you feel like you get all the hard parts of the human experience, without being technically human, and if that’s going to be the case...well, you shouldn’t _also_ get the hard parts of being a dog, right? Like this irrational fear of a common household appliance?”

Brian sat and listened, and for an instant tears pricked at his eyes, before he forced them away. Stewie wasn’t just tweaking and rephrasing something he himself had alluded to moments ago. There was something about the way the child was putting things, the surefooted cadence of his voice, and the way he seemed to confidently be making way to a larger point that moved Brian sincerely-- and to the edge of his seat, ready to receive further solace.

“I think you’re upset about a lot of things,” said Stewie softly, turning his gaze to the water glass that sat between them, and abstractedly wiping away a bead of condensation from the side. “And I think some of those things snowballed into the kind of break that happened to you a little earlier. This time, instead of breaking down over a humanlike fear, you collapsed under the weight of a doglike one. It’s just something to think about, Brian, and maybe if you do...well, maybe that will help with the severity of your phobia.”

Brian snorted despite himself. “Or I’ll just have a panic attack every time I think about my failed writing career and my dating life.”

The imp at his side smirked slightly, but offered, “You never know. You might just be surprised. Maybe you could try confronting your zuigerphobia and you’d find that it would improve other aspects of your life, as well.”

“Confront it?” Brian echoed. “How could I do that any more than I already have? You saw me go through the full force of it.” But deep down, he knew. He had a very strong hunch what Stewie was actually talking about, but was forcing himself to deny and ignore it. The truth was too frightening to entertain.

“I meant you should face your fear,” announced Stewie, thereby dropping the bomb. Brian’s heart boomed along in dread in his chest, and his throat felt dry. He eyed the half-empty cup of water.

“I...uh…” he stuttered dully, stalling for time or trying to come up with an excuse that Stewie would accept, he couldn’t tell which himself.

“I think you should stare down that vacuum cleaner!” declared Stewie excitedly, banging his tiny fists on the highchair. “Look into the eye of the storm and say, ‘I am not afraid!’”

“Fuck…” Brian muttered, gawping at his baby companion, riveted and bowled over. His paw spasmed slightly, wanting to shake again as he lifted it and wiped it in a fidget of a gesture down the front of his face. “That’s...that’s intense, man.”

"Yeah," said Stewie, with atypical machismo. "That's the way I do it."

"Well, maybe that's not how I do it," Brian quickly responded, not wanting Stewie to think this would be one of the times he’d go along with the kid’s crazy ideas. “You...you may have a point here, Stewie, and I’ll think about it, like you said. Maybe my zuigerphobia is partly a stand-in for other fears and I’ve let it get out of hand. But don’t I need time to, like, process that? Then, and only then, can I work my way up to…” his voice faded away, growing less and less assured, though he was vehemently sure that he wanted to make a good case, here.

“My therapist,” the canine finally continued, “uh, he always stresses doing things in your own time…”

“Your therapist?” Stewie interrupted dubiously, eyelids lowering into a dry expression. “You’re still seeing him?”

“Um, well, no, not for a while. In fact, I think he-- I think he might be dead, but my point is…”

“Your point is you’re stalling and your therapist once urged you to go and confront your mother so you could come to terms with your past with her, not sit around thinking that you should,” retorted Stewie sternly. He nodded once, as if having come to a decision with himself. He then tapped Brian on the paw and scrambled down from his highchair. “Come along, Brian.”

Brian was so used to following Stewie that he jumped down from his seat automatically, but when his small friend’s hand reached for his paw, the dog drew back, becoming rooted to the spot.

“Where are we going?”

Stewie seized Brian's arm and tugged. "Oh, I think you know where this is leading us."

Brian stumbled forward a step. "Stewie..." he said nervously, almost like a whimper.

"Bry," the infant persisted, firmly but not uncaringly, "come on. This is for your own good, and I'll be by your side through the whole thing. It's okay, Brian. I know you can do it. I have faith in you." He smiled at the dog, who looked back at him, conflicted.

He didn't want to let his little buddy down. Here he could recover some lost ground, not seem like such a wimp. Here he could even set a good example for the small child. If he couldn't do it for himself, could he do it for Stewie?

Brian's heart did a flip in his chest.

But what about himself? What about his personal safety? Inside, Brian's pragmaticism snarled at his illogical canine phobia. _What are you afraid of Brian?!_ he asked himself. _What exactly do you think is going to happen? Do you think the vacuum is going to eat you, is that it? Normally you like getting hoovered!_

No, Stewie must be right. He must be reacting so hard to his zuigerphobia as a substitute for dealing with his real problems. And if he could conquer his fear of that stupid appliance, then maybe, just maybe, he could conquer anything.

He wanted to do this for Stewie. And he wanted to do this for himself. It was a good thing that he had made that decision, too, because he just realized that while he had been lost in thought, his legs had been moving forward, and he and Stewie were now in the living room.

Stewie’s hands were wrapped around the canine’s arm and while Brian walked in a semi-stupor, Stewie moved in a businesslike fashion, his steps as quick and energetic as his stubby baby legs could make them. In his determined hurry, though, he spared a fond look over at Brian.

“That’s it, boy, that’s it, you’re doing great!” he coaxed, smiling. “Stewie’s here, he’s right here, and you don’t think he’d let anything hurt you, do you?”

Whether Brian did or he didn’t, he couldn’t have said...because just then, a great whirring roar sounded above their heads. They were on the stairs now, and Brian shuddered and then froze.

Stewie cursed and tightened his hold on his companion’s arm. Brian fell down to his knees on the step they currently inhabited, and clamped his paws over his ears.

“Aaaaah, goddammit, Stewie!” he cried, squeezing his eyes shut and starting to shake all over. He felt Stewie rest his head against his shoulder. He tried to ground himself by concentrating on Stewie’s presence. The dog was beginning to get a little short of breath, and recognized that as a warning sign of losing control. He sucked in a slow, deliberate breath and exhaled it out just as slowly, his mouth forming a tight ring, controlling the breath coming in and out. He repeated this process numerous times.

In a minute, he took his paws away from his ears, and heard that his breath was audible and he sounded almost like a woman doing the Lamaze Method. He would have been embarrassed, but he was more focused on the fact that his panic attack was seemingly ending before it even started this time. He opened his eyes and glanced down to see Stewie cuddled against him, looking sad and worried.

However, the kid must have felt Brian’s gaze, because his eyes darted up to meet his friend’s. The canine was still keeping his breath carefully smooth, and as they looked into each other’s eyes, Brian fleetingly wondered why he had never done Lamaze with Stewie when the boy was expecting their hybrids.

Soft, warm breath whispered through the dog’s fur as Stewie stayed close to him.

The child seemed to find something heartening in Brian’s expression, because he stopped looking so disappointed for him and helped him to his feet. Brian still shook a little, but he found himself saying to Stewie,

“I want to keep going. I want to keep going.”

Stewie grinned and patted him on the back. “Atta boy, Brian.”

And up they went, up and up. Although several times Brian wanted to break down again-- especially now that the vacuum was actually running-- he didn’t. He still trembled slightly as he walked, but he could feel the adrenaline pumping in his veins. With Stewie at his side, he had faced many terrifying things, and it was ridiculous that this was the one for which he had to consciously work to summon the most courage.

But he realized that he was enjoying being proud of himself for pressing on. He wanted to stare down that monster machine.

How far could he go? For Stewie? For himself?

They were outside the door to Chris’s room before long, where the vacuum was. He and Stewie were holding hands by then. Brian poked his head around the doorjamb with grim resolve. A shudder ran through him, head to tail, as he watched that thing gliding sinisterly over the carpet, menacingly noisy. Who knew what it was really capable of?

He and Stewie looked to each other and exchanged brief nods. Brian was a basket of nerves, but he stepped into the room.

He was just over the threshold and he stopped and looked at Lois. Was she going to torment him again? She was one of the ones who liked to exploit his fear of the vacuum. Sometimes she liked to race it toward him, send it bearing down on him in all its horror, chase him around with it. But she seemed to be in a world of her own. She hadn’t even noticed that Brian had come into the room.

The dog twisted his paws together in front of himself and turned his body sideways, not wanting to turn his back to that vicious vacuum. Out of the corner of his eye, his vision found Stewie, and he saw that the kid was giving him a thumbs up.

 _Vroooom! Vroooom!_ The sounds of the monster seemed to take up the whole room. Brian shook a little more, and then the shaking was bringing him down to all fours, and he faced his mortal enemy not as Brian the person, but as a dog.

The vacuum was headed in his direction…

And Brian inched forward cautiously to meet it, creeping toward it bit by bit, crouched down, head lowered, nose practically on the ground.

It all happened so fast; the roar of the vacuum resounded in his ears along with the pounding of his heart, and his vision started to blur. A high-pitched noise rose up over the clamor and the next thing Brian knew, he was looking at the hallway. And then he was _in_ the hallway, running through it, and he knew that the high-pitched noise had been him yelping, and he was still whining as he ran.

“Brian!” Stewie shouted, and just then, Brian’s clarity of vision returned, and he saw that he was at the top of the stairs-- just as he felt a hard pull on his collar and he let out a spluttering noise, choking for air.

The pressure against his throat went away, and he sat back on his haunches, coughing. Stewie crouched at his side, petting his back, and once Brian could speak, he turned to the super genius baby and somewhat hoarsely demanded, “What the hell, Stewie?”

“What the hell nothing, you seemed to be in some kind of a daze, I was worried you’d fall down the stairs!” the child snapped, standing. Then his expression softened and he asked considerately, “You okay, Bry?”

“I….” The canine paused. He shook his head violently, contemplating what had just happened. Meanwhile, the vacuum still hummed away somewhere down the hall, but aside from some of the fur on the back of his neck standing upright, he barely even registered it.

“Brian,” said Stewie, his voice sounding consoling for some reason. The dog turned to look at him.

“Brian, I know you ended up freaking out, anyway, but you shouldn’t be too hard on yourself, because remember, we didn’t set any formal parameters and…”

“Damn right, no formal parameters!” Brian boasted, jumping to his feet and flexing before pumping his fists in the air. “Fuck, yeah! Did you see me do it?! Did you see me? Huh? Huh?!” he asked eagerly, tail wagging madly as he looked to his little buddy expectantly.

Stewie was smiling, but he squinted at the dog and seemed to choose his words carefully, saying, “I saw you...enter Chris’s room...and the vacuum...was on and…”

“What, are you stroking out on me, man, you know what happened! Do you know what you just said? I went into the room-- voluntarily! While the vacuum was on!” Brian enthused, feeling absolutely exhilarated. “And did you see how close I got to it, too?!”

By this time, Stewie was beaming with pride. “I sure did, buddy.”

“I did it!” Brian exclaimed happily, filled with a wonderful sense of accomplishment. Stewie wrapped his small arms as far as he could around his canine companion’s middle.

“You did,” he agreed, and Brian returned the hug.

Before they could celebrate further, both were startled when Peter suddenly burst into the house, clutching three dirty, deflated pool floats under his arms. “Hey, kids, you’ll never guess what awesome thing I found in the garage!”

With the door now wide open, they heard Meg shriek, “I’m telling you, Chris, I wanna use that car!”

“And I’m telling _you_ , eat mud and die!” Chris retaliated harshly, appearing outside the front door, holding a hose and glaring at his sister who stood on the threshold. As Brian and Stewie watched, he pointed the hose at the ground, which they just now noticed was overspread with runny mud.

“Power blaster!” yelled Chris, and the water pressure from the hose went way up, forcing a current of mud into the house and after Meg, who jumped back with a cry of alarm.

“Dad!” she screamed, spotting her father. “Look what Chris is doing! He definitely shouldn’t get the car now!” She pointed at the mud flooding into the house.

“A good ole fashioned mud slip ‘n slide, sweet!” raved Peter, undoubtedly not giving her the response she’d for some reason expected. He plunked down one of the pool rafts and lay on it on his stomach.

Chris came into the house, now ankle-deep in mud. His father was using his hands and feet to push himself around on the floatie toy.

"Hey, kids, I should make ya mud wrestle for the car."

"No way!" objected Chris. "Meg's freakishly strong! She'll crush me like a bug! Keep me away from She Hulk!"

“Okay, then,” conceded Peter, and tossed down the remaining deflated inflatable rafts. “Hop aboard your chariots, you whiny snots, and mud race to glory.” Peter pushed forward a little more until he was in the thick of the mudslide and was carried away by the current.

Meg and Chris looked at each other and shrugged in unison before dropping down on their stomachs on the rafts Peter had left for them and pushing out to catch a muddy wave.

“OH, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, PETER!” Lois screamed, causing both Brian and Stewie to jump. She was standing right behind them, and she did _not_ look happy. The dog and the baby flattened themselves up against the wall and inched themselves along it as they traveled down the stairs and away from her tirade.

“Honestly, I don’t know what the fuck’s the matter with you! We were supposed to be _cleaning_ the house, dim bulb, not filling it with fucking mud!” She was pulling at her hair and started gesticulating wildly. “God, it’s _one_ thing if you won’t even help me improve all of this family’s miserable lives, but do you have to make things a million times worse?! I swear--”

Brian and Stewie escaped to the kitchen, carefully staying to the outside of the river of mud now occupying their living room.

“So, um, you, like, want ice cream or something?” asked Brian, jabbing a furry digit at the side door. “You wanna go out and get a couple cones?” He stood up a little straighter and grinned. “To celebrate my victory?”

“Sounds great, Bry,” the tyke agreed cheerfully, making his way toward the door. Brian lagged behind, and when Stewie realized his dog wasn’t at his heels, he turned back around, raising his eyebrows at the lollygagging canine.

“You going out like that, Stewie?” asked Brian flatly, waving a paw up and down to indicate the French maid outfit.

Stewie didn’t even blink. “Absolutely. I thought we both already established what a good look it is on me.” He smirked and did a showy wink, then twirled just as he had earlier, and with that, was on his way out the door.

Brian lingered only a moment or two longer, which was long enough to give an affectionate chuckle and shake of his head and listen as the voices of the rest of his crazy family in the next room unified into one insignificant drone.

Not exactly music to the ear. Noisy. Sometimes overwhelming. Just like the object of fear he’d faced off with mere minutes ago.

 _Vacuums and the Griffins,_ Brian thought to himself with a snort as he let himself out of the house. Both could suck, but sometimes, when you got close enough, they weren’t so bad. 

Even so, the two best Griffins couldn’t wait to escape for ice cream.

**_The End_ **


End file.
